Timon of Athens, A Tragedy by ShakespeareWilliam ShakespeareThomas MiddletonMr. HopkinsPrinted for John Bell in 1773TEI edition encoded byCourtney HerberDanny NguyenBenjamin ReedJohn Bell, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. Etherington, at YorkLondonMDCCLXXIII

Physical volume held at University of Nebraska-Lincoln's Special Collections and Archives

Timon of ATHENS,A TRAGEDY, by SHAKESPEARE,AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATER-ROYAL, Drury Lane,Regulated from the PROMPT-BOOK,With PERMISSION of the MANGERS,By Mr. HOPKINS, Prompter.Printers OrnamentPrinted for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York.
MDCCLXXIII [1773].

INTRODUCTION.

This piece can never be intereʃting on the ʃtage; notwith-
ʃtanding many paʃʃages which reliʃh highly of its great
author; one excellent piece of inʃtruction it undoubtedly
affords, the miʃerable effects of prodigal benevolence,
ʃcattered among ʃervile intereʃted followers; the pic-
ture of Timon himʃelf is highly finiʃhed; and Ape-
mantus is a well conceived, well drawn contraʃt; but
moʃt of the other characters are inʃipid or trifling, many
of the ʃcenes flimzy, and the cataʃrophe not ʃo ʃtriking,
as it might be; we give the piece to peruʃal, greatly and
properly reduced from the original.

We have ʃeen three alterations of this play; the laʃt,
Mr. Cumberland’s, is much the beʃt, but we think
Shakeʃpeare, properly pared, better than any of them;
though, if the merit of this dramatic genius had reʃted
upon Timon for fame, it muʃt have fallen very ʃhort
of what it is; yet as the moral, ʃhowing how miʃap-
plied bounty may become a deʃtructive vice, muʃt be
conʃidered as a very uʃeful leʃʃon, we could with this
piece to be oftner in public view; but lighter matters
than inʃtruϵtion, ʃeem to be too much the prevalent taʃte.

ACT I
SCENE, a ball in Timon’s houʃeEnter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer at ʃeveral doors.*
PoetGOOD day Sir.Painter I am glad y’ are well.PoetI have not ʃeen you long; how goes theworld?PainterIt wears, Sir, as it goes.PoetAy, that’s well known.But what particular rarity? what ʃo ʃtrange,Which manifold r cord not matches? ʃee,(Magick of bounty!) all theʃe ʃpirits thy power^Hath conjur’d to attend. I know the merchant.PainterI know them both; th’ other’s a jeweller.MerchantO ‘tis a worthy lord!JewellerI have a jewel here.MerchantO, pray, let’s ʃee’t:For the lord Timon, Sir?JewellerIf he will touch the eʃtimate: but for that--^^H3 Poet02* The opening ʃcene of this play is a good preparative for the
ʃubject coming before us; and is expreʃed much in charaϵter.82TIMON OF ATHENS.PoetWhen we for recompence have prais’d thevile.It ʃtains the gory in that happy verʃeWhich aptly ʃings the good.Mercer‘Tis a good form.[Looking on the jewel.JewellerAnd rich; here is a water, look ye.PainterYou’re rapt, Sir, in ʃome work; ʃome de-dicationTo the great lord ?PoetA thing ʃlipt idly from me.Our poeʃie is as a gum, which iʃʃuesFrom whence ‘tis nouriʃhed. The fire i th’ flintShews not, ‘till it be ʃtruck :What have you there ?PainterA picture, Sir:--when comes your bookforth ?PoetUpon the heels of my preʃentment, Sir.Let’s ʃee your piece,Painter‘Tis a good piece.PoetSo ‘tis.Poet (Handwritten)This comes off well and excellent.PainterIndiff’rent.PoetAdmirable! How this graceSpeaks his own ʃtanding ? what a mental powerThis eye ʃhoots forth ? how big imaginationMoves in this lip ? to the dumbneʃs of the geʃtureOne might interpret.PainterIt is a pretty mocking of the life:Here is a touch----is’t good ?Poet I’ll ʃay of itIt tutors nature ; artificial ʃtrifeLives in thoʃe touches, livelier than life.*Enter certain ʃenators.PainterHow this lord is followed !PoetThe ʃenators of Athens ! happy man !PainterLook, more!Poet.03* Making men of genius flatter one another in company, isnatural enough, however they may vent cenʃure when apart--it is too often the caʃe.

136TIMON OF ATHENS.

TimonHere’s gold. Go, ʃuck the ʃubtle blood o’th’ grape,’Till the high fever ʃeethe your blood to froth,And ʃo ‘ʃcape hanging. Truʃt not the phyʃician,His antidotes are poiʃon, and he ʃlaysMore than you rob. Take wealth, and live together.Do villainy , do, ʃince you profeʃs to do’t,Like workmen ; I’ll example you with thievery.The ʃun’s a thief, and with his great attraϵtionRobs the vaʃt ʃea. The moon’s an arrant thiefAnd her pale fire ʃhe ʃnatches from the ʃun.The ʃea’s a thief, whoʃe liquid ʃurge reʃolvesThe mounds into ʃalt tears. ^Love not yourʃelves, away ;Rob one another, there’s more gold ; cut throatsAll that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,Break open ʃhops, for nothing can you ʃteal,But thieves do loʃ it: ʃteal not leʃs for whatI give, and gold confound you howʃoever! Amen.[Exit.04The fourth act rather riʃes upon us, but Timon has ʃo muchto ʃay, that the actor, who does him juʃtice, muʃ have verypermanent powers.End of the Fourth ACT

ACT V
SCENE, the woods, and Timon's cave.Enter FlaviusFLAVIUSOH, you gods!Is yon deʃpis’d and ruinous man, my lord?Full of decay and failing ? oh, monumentAnd wonder of good deeds, evilly beʃtow’d!What change of honour deʃp’rate want has made?What^ each thing's a thief. No laws, your curb and whip, in their rough cavesHave uncheck'd theft.Timon seated in the entrance of his cave.TIMON OF ATHENS.137What viler thing upon the earth, than friendsWho can bring nobleʃt minds to baʃeʃt ends? ‡H’as caught me in his eye, I will preʃentMy honeʃt grief to him ; and, as my lord,Still ʃerve him with my life. My deareʃt maʃter!Timon comes forward from his cave. § TimonAway! What art thou?FlaviusHave you forgot me, Sir?TimonWhy doʃt thou aʃk that ? I have forgot allmen.Then, if thou granteʃt that thou art a man,I have forgot thee.FlaviusAn honeʃt ʃervant----TimonThen I know thee not:I ne’er had honeʃt men about me, allI kept were knaves, to ʃerve in meat to villains.FlaviusThe gods are witneʃs,Ne’er did poor ʃteward wear a truer grief,For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.TimonFor his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. I love thee,Becauʃe thou art a woman, and diʃclaim’ʃtFlinty mankind; whoʃe eyes do never give,But or through luʃt, or laughter. Pity’s ʃleeping;Strange times, that cry with laughing, not withweeping!FlaviusI beg of you to know me, good my lord,T’ accept my grief, and, whilʃt this poor wealth laʃts,To entertain me as your ʃteward ʃtill.TimonHad I a ʃtewardSo true, ʃo juʃt, and now ʃo comfortable ?Vol. VNIt05‡The following lines ʃshould be ʃpoken.How rarely does it meet with this time’s guiʃe,When man was wiʃht to love his enemies !Grant I may ever love, and rather wooThoʃe that would miʃchief me, than thoʃ that do!06§ The author has begun his fifth act, with an affeϵting inter-view between Timon and his faithful ʃteward; but we wiʃh theformer did not overflow with ʃuch an exceʃs of miʃanthropic re-ʃentment, of which he has, with great ʃameneʃs and prolixity,been before too liberal.138TIMON OF ATHENS.It almoʃt turns my dangerous nature wild----Let me behold thy face: ʃurely, this manWas born of woman.Forgive my gen’ral and exceptleʃs raʃhneʃs,Perpetual, ʃober gods ! I do proclaimOne honeʃt man : miʃtake me not--but one:No more, I pray; and he’s a ʃteward.How fain would I have hated all mankind,And thou redeem’ʃt thyʃelf: but all, ʃave thee,*I fell with curʃes.Methinks, thou art more honeʃt now, than wife;For, by oppreʃʃing and betraying me,Thou might’ʃt have ʃooner got another’s ʃervice:For many ʃo arrive at ʃecond maʃters,Upon their firʃt lord’s neck. But tell me true,Is not thy kindneʃs, ʃubtle, covetous,An uʃuring kindeʃs, as rich men deal gifts,Expeϵting in return twenty for one ?FlaviusNo, my moʃt worthy maʃter, (in whoʃe breaʃtDoubt and ʃuʃpeϵt, † alas, are plac’d too late,)You ʃhould have fear’d falʃe times, when you didfeaʃt;That which I ʃhew, heav’n knows, is merely love,Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,Care of your food, and living, and, believe it,For any benefit that points to me,Either in hope, or preʃent, I’d exchangeFor this one wiʃh, that you had power and wealthTo requite me by making rich yourʃelf.TimonLook thee, ‘tis ʃo; thou ʃingly honeʃt man,Here, take; the gods out of my miʃery,Have ʃent thee treaʃure. Go, live rich and happy :But thus condition’d; thou ʃhalt build for men :Hate all, curʃe all , ʃhew charity to none ;But let the famiʃh’d fleʃh ʃlide from the bone,Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs,What07* This his interval of tender feeling for his faithful ʃteward,ʃoftens the frenzied rigidity of Timon, agreeably.08†Suʃpect, for ʃuʃpicion.Exit Timon.139TIMON OF ATHENS.What thou deny’ʃt to men. Let priʃons ʃwallow ‘em,Debts wither ‘em ; be men like blaʃted woods,And may diʃeaʃes lick up their falʃe bloods !And ʃo farewel, and thrive.FlaviusO, let me ʃtay, and comfort you, my maʃter.TimonIf thou hat’ʃt curʃes,Stay not, but fly, whilʃt thou art bleʃt and free;Ne’er ʃee thou man, and let me ne’er ʃee thee.[Exeunt, ʃeverally.Enter Poet and Painter.PainterAs I took note of the place, it can’t be far,where he abides.PoetWhat’s to be thought of him ? does the ru-mour hold for true, that he’s ʃo full of gold ?PainterCertain. Alcibiades reports it : Phyrnia andTimandra had gold of him : he likewiʃe enrich’dpoor ʃtragling ʃoldiers with great quantity.ʃaid, he gave his ʃteward a mighty ʃum.PoetThen this breaking of his, has been but a trialof his friends ?PainterNothing elʃe ; you ʃhall ʃee him a palm inAthens, again, and flouriʃh with the higheʃt.PoetWhat have you now to preʃent unto him ?PainterNothing at this time, but my viʃitation : onlyI will promiʃe him an excellent piece.PoetI muʃt ʃerve him ʃ, too; tell him of an in-tent that’s coming towards him.Painter ‡ Good as the beʃt : promiʃing is the veryair o’th’ time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Per-formance is ever the duller for his act, and, but inthe plainer and ʃimpler kind of people, the deed isquite out of uʃe. §N2Re-09‡Promiʃes and performance are here diʃtinguiʃhed in a ʃenʃi-
ble ʃatirical manner.10§It is a great pity to omit the following paʃʃage.To promiʃe, is moʃt courtly, and faʃhionable; performance is akind of will or teʃtament, which argues a great ʃickneʃs in his judg-ment that makes it.140TIMON OF ATHENS.Re-enter Timon from his cave, unʃeen.TimonExcellent workman ! though canʃt not paint aman, ʃo bad as thyʃelf.PoetI am thinking, what I ʃhall ʃay I have pro-vided for him: it muʃt be a perʃonating of himself:a ʃatyr againʃt the ʃoftneʃs of proʃperity, with a diʃ-covery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth andopulency.TimonMuʃt thou needs ʃtand for a villain, in thineown work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults, in othermen? do ʃo, I have gold for thee.PoetNay, let's ʃeek him.TimonI'll meet you at the turn----------What a god's gold, that he is the worʃhippedIn baʃer temples than where ʃwine do feed !'Tis thou that rigg'ʃt the bark, and plow'ʃt the wave,ʃettleʃt admired rev'rence in a ʃlave;To thee the worʃhip, and thy ʃaints, for aye,Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!'Tis fit I meet them.PoetHail! worthy Timon.PainterOur late noble maʃter.TimonHave I once liv'd to ʃee two honeʃt men?Poetʃir, having often of your bounty taʃted,Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,*He, and myʃelf,Have travell'd in the great ʃhower of your gifts,and ʃweetly felt it.TimonAy, you're honeʃt men.11* Theʃe lines almoʃt certainly deʃerve preʃervation.Whoʃe thankleʃs natures, ( oh abhorred ʃpirits ! )Not all the whips of heav’n are large enough--------------What! to you!Whoʃe ʃtar-like nobleneʃs gave life and influence,To their whole being ! I am rapt, and cannotCover the monʃtrous bulk of this ingratitudeWith any ʃize of words.TimonLet it go naked, men may ʃee't the better:You that are honeʃt, by being what you are,Make them beʃt ʃeen and known.TIMON OF ATHENS.141PainterWe’re hither come to offer you our ʃervice.TimonMoʃt honeʃt men ! why, how ʃhall i requiteyou?Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.BothWhat we can do, we'll do, to do you ʃervice.TimonY’re honeʃt men ; you’ve heard that I havegold ;I'm ʃure you have; ʃpeak truth, y're honest men.Painterʃo it is ʃaid, my noble lord, but thereforeCame not my friend, nor I.TimonGood honeʃt man; thou draw'ʃt a counterfeit,Beʃt in all Athens ; thou'rt, indeed, the beʃt ; Thou counterfeit'ʃt, moʃt lively.Painterʃo, ʃo, my lord.TimonE'en ʃo, ʃir, as I ʃay--And for thy fiction,Why, thy verʃe ʃwells with ʃtuff ʃo fine and ʃmooth,That thou art even natural in thine art.But for all this, my honeʃt-natur'd friends,I muʃt needs ʃay, you have a little fault;Marry, not monʃtrous in you ; neither wiʃh I,You take much pains to mend.BothBeʃeech your honourTo make it known to us.TimonYou'll take it ill.BothMoʃt thankfully, my lord.TimonWill, you indeed ?BothDoubt it not, worthy lord.TimonThere's ne'er a one of you but truʃts a knave,That mightily deceives youBothAy, and you hear him cogg †, ʃee himdiʃʃemble,Know his groʃs patchery, love him, and feed him ;Keep in your boʃom, yet, remain aʃʃur'd,That he's a made-up villain.PainterI know non ʃuch, my lord.PoetNor I.
†Cogg, for flatterN 3Tim.142TIMON OF ATHENS. TimonLook you, I love you well, I'll give you gold,Rid me theʃe villains, from your companies ;Hang them, or ʃtab them, drown them in a draughtConfound them by ʃome courʃe, and come to me,I'll give you gold enough.BothName them, my lord, let's know them.TimonYou that way, and you this ;--------but twoIn company : Each man apart, all ʃingle and alone,Yet an arch villain keeps his company.If where thou art, two villains ʃhall not be,[To the painter.Come not near him-----If thou wouldnʃt not reʃide[To the poet.But where one villain is, then him abandon.Hence, pack, there's gold ; ye came for hold, yeʃlavesYou are an alchymiʃt, make godl of that :OUt, raʃcal dogs ! [Beating, and driving 'em out.Enter Flavius and two ʃenatorsFlaviusIt is in vain that you would ʃpeak with Timon: For he is ʃet ʃo only to himʃelf,That nothing but himʃelf, which looks like man,Is friendly with him.1. Sen Bring us to his cave,It is our part and promiʃe to th' Athenians,To ʃpeak with Timon.2. SenAt all times alike.Men are not ʃtill the ʃame ; 'twas time and griefsThat fram'd him thus. Time, with his fairer hand,Offering the fortunes of his former days,The former man may make him ; bring us to him,And chance it as it may.FlaviusHere is his cave :Peace and content be here, lord Timon! Timon!Look out, an ʃpeak to friends, th' Athenians
By Enter two other ʃenators, with a Meʃʃenger.1. SenTHOU haʃt painfully diʃcover'd ; are his fileAs full as thy report ?2. SenMeʃ. I have ʃpoke the leaʃt.Beʃides, his expedition promiʃesPreʃent approach.1. SenWe ʃtand much hazard, if they we bring notTimon.2. SenMeʃ. I met a courierCaptain oncem ine ancient friend ;Who, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love made a particular force,And made us ʃpeak like friends. This mn was ridingFrom Alcibiades to Timon's Cave,With letters of intreaty, which importedHis fellowship i'th' Cauʃe againʃt your CityIn part for his ʃake mov'd.TIMON OF ATHENS.143By two of their moʃt rev'rend ʃenate, greet thee ;ʃpeak to them, noble Timon.Enter Timon out of his cave.TimonThou fun, that comfort'ʃt, burn!------ʃpeak and be hang'd ;For each true word a bliʃter, and each falʃeBe cauterizing to the root o'th' tongue,Conʃuming it with ʃpeaking1. SenWorthy Timon2. SenThe ʃenators of Athens greet thee, Timon.TimonI thank them. And would ʃend them backThe plague,Could I but catch it for them.1. SenatorOh! forgetWhat we are ʃorry for ourʃelves, in thee:The ʃenators, with one conʃent of love,Intreat thee back to Athens ; who have thoughtOn ʃpecial dignities, which vacant lie,For thy beʃt uʃe and wearing.2. SenatorThey confeʃsTow'rd thee forgetfulneʃs, too general, groʃs ;Which now the public body, (which doth ʃeldomPlay the recanter) feeling in itʃelfA lack of Timon's aid, hath ʃenʃe withalOf its own fall, reʃtraining aid to Timon;And ʃends forth us to make their ʃorrowed tender,Together with a recompence more fruitful,Than their offence can weigh down by the dram ;Ay, ev'n ʃuch heaps and ʃums of love and wealth,As ʃhall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs ;And write in thee the figures of their love,Even to read them thine. ‡12‡The return of fawning profeʃʃions to return of wealth, aswell as their departure from poverty, is too well known to everybody, who knows any thing of life; but the picture here drawn,of ʃuch infamous time-ʃerving, may have ʃingular good effectsupon unpractiʃed youth, if properly inculcated and attended to;Timon, in this ʃcene, retorts upon his ungrateful countrymen,with a proper degree of firm manly reʃentment.Tim.144TIMON OF ATHENS.TimonYou witch me in it,ʃurprize me to the very brink of tears ;Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,and I'll beweep theʃe comforts, worthy ʃenators.1. SenatorTherefore ʃo pleaʃe thee to return with us,And of our Athens, thine and ours, to takeTHe captainʃhip : thou ʃhalt be met with thanks,Allow'd with abʃolute power, and thy good nameLive with authority : ʃoon we ʃhall drive backOf Alcibiades th' approaches wild,Who, like a boar too ʃavage, doth root upHis country's peace.2. SenatorAnd ʃhakes his threatning ʃwordAgainʃt the walls of Athens.2. Senator 1. ʃenatorTherefore, Timon-----TimonWell, ʃir, I will; therefore I will, ʃir;thus --------- If Alcibiades kill my countymen,Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,That Timon cares not. If he ʃack fair Athens, ANd take our goodly aged men by' beards,Giving our holy virgins to the ʃtainOf contumelious, beaʃtly, mad-brain'd war;Then let him know, --and tell him, Timon ʃpeaks it;In pity of our aged, and our youthI cannot chuʃe but tell him, that I care not.And let him tak't at worʃt ; for their knives care not,while you have throats to ansʃwer. For myself,There’s not a whittle in th’ unruly camp,But I do prize it at my love, beforeThe reverend’ʃt throat in Athens. ʃo I leave youTo the proteC*tion of the proʃp’rous gods,As thieves to keepers. Flaviusʃtay not, all's in vain.TimonWhy, I was writing of my epitaph,It will be ʃeen, to-morrow. My long ʃickneʃsOf health and living now begins to mend,And nothing brings me all things. Go, live ʃtill ;Be Alcibiades your plague; you his ; And laʃt ʃo, long enough! 1. ʃen.TIMON OF ATHENS.1451. SenatorWe ʃpeak in vain.TimonBut yet I love my country, and am notOne that rejoices in the common wreck,As common † bruite doth put it.1. SenatorThat's well ʃpokeTimonCommend me to my loving countrymen.1. SenatorTheʃe words become your lips, as they paʃsthro' them.2. SenatorANd enter in our ears, like great triumphers,In their applauding gates.TimonCommend me to them,And tell them, that to eaʃe them of their griefs,Their fears of hoʃtile ʃtrokes, their aches, loʃʃes, ^andTheir pangs of love, with other incident throes.That nature’s fragile § veʃʃel doth ʃuʃtain,In life’s uncertain voyage, I will doʃome kindneʃs to them, teach them to preventWild Alcibiades’s wrath.2. SenatorI like this well, he will return again.TimonI have a tree, which grows here in my cloʃeThat mine own uʃe invites me to cut down, And ʃhortly muʃt I fell it. Tell my friends,Tell Athen , in the ʃequence [asterisk symbol] of degree,From high to low throughout, that whoʃo pleaʃeTo ʃtop affliction, let him take his haʃte ; Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,And hang himʃelf-----I pray you, do my greeting.FlaviusVex him no further, thus you ʃtill ʃhall find him.TimonCome not to me again, but ʃay to Athens,Timon hath made his everlaʃting manʃion,Upon the beached verge of the ʃalt flood ;Which, once a-day, with his emboʃʃed froth,The turbulent ʃurge ʃhall cover: thither come,And let my grave-ʃtone be your oracle.Lips, let ʃour words go by, and language end :What is amiʃs, plague and infection mend!13 † Bruite, report.
‡ Fragile, for brittle--this ʃpeech we deem very beautiful ; the aʃʃimilation it contains, is moʃt happily fancied.
∗ ʃequence, for gradation. Graves146TIMON OF ATHENS.Graves only be men’s works, and death their gain !ʃun, hide thy beams ! Timon hath done his reign. [Exit Timon. †1. SenatorHis diʃcontents are unremoveably coupledTo his nature.2. SenatorOur hope in him is dead; let us returnAnd ʃtrain what other means is left unto us,In our dear [double cross symbol] peril. 1. SenatorIt require ʃwift foot. [Exuent.
ʃ C E N E, before the walls of athens. §Trumpets ʃound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers.Alcibiadesʃound to this coward and laʃcivious town,[ʃound a parley. The ʃenators appear upon the walls.’Till now you have gone on, and fill’d the timeWith all licentious meaʃure, making your willsThe ʃcope of juʃtice. ’Till now myʃelf, and ʃuchAs ʃlept within the ʃhadow of your power,Have wander’d with our traverʃt arms, and breath’dOur ʃufferance vainly. Now the time is fluʃh,When crouching marrow in the bearer ʃtrongCries, of itʃelf, no more: now breathleʃs wrongʃhall ʃit and pant in your great chairs of eaʃe,And purʃy inʃolence ʃhall break his wind,With fear and horrid flight. 1. SenatorWhen the firʃt griefs were but a mere conceit,Ere thou hadʃt power, or we had cauʃe to fear ;We ʃent to thee, to give thy rages balm,To wipe out our ingratitude, with lovesAbove their quantity.
†
14text of annotation> † This languid departure of the principal character, muʃtleave an audience unʃatisfied, and all that follows is ʃo detachedfrom the main plot, except Timon’s epitaph, that cutting everyline out would rather ʃerve, than maim, the piece; it is merelypatching up a concluʃion with ingredients totally void of critical reliʃh.15 ‡ Dear, for dread.16 § There is a ʃhort ʃcene of the original, before this, properly rejected.ʃenator(x2. Would not a battering ram brought in have a good effect?) 1. Sen.TIMON OF ATHENS.1472. Senatorʃo did we wooTransformed Timon to our city’s love,By humble meʃʃage, and by promis’d ‘mends: We were not all unkind, nor all deʃerveThe common ʃtroke of war. 1. SenatorTheʃe walls of oursWere not ereC*ted by their hands, from whomYou have receiv’d your griefs : nor are they ʃuch,That theʃe great tow’rs, trophies, and ʃchools ʃhouldfall,For private faults in them.1.2. Senatorʃen. March on, oh noble lord,Into our city with thy banners ʃpread ;By decimation and a tithed death,If thy revenges hunger for that foodWhich nature loaths, take thou the deʃtin’d tenth :And by the hazard of the ʃpotted die,Let die the ʃpotted.1. SenatorThen, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage;ʃpare thy Athenian cradle, and theʃe kin,Which in the bluʃter of thy wrath muʃt fall,With thoʃe that have offended ; like a ʃhepherd,Approach the fold, and cull th’ infeC*ted forth ;But kill not altogether,2. SenatorWhat thou wilt,Thou rather ʃhalt enforce it with thy ʃmile,Than hew to’t with thy ʃword.1.2. Senatorʃet but thy footAgainʃt our rampir’d gates, and they ʃhall ope :ʃo thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,To ʃay thou’lt enter friendly.2.1. SenatorThrow thy glove,Or any token of thine honour elʃe,That thou wilt uʃe the wars as thy redreʃs,And not as our confuʃion: all thy powers ʃhall make their harbour in our town, till weHave seal’d thy full deʃire.AlcibiadesThen there's my glove ;Deʃcend, and open your uncharged ports ;Thoʃe148TIMON OF ATHENS.Thoʃe enemies of Timon’s, and mine own,Whom you yourʃelves ʃhall ʃet out for reproof,Fall, and no more; and to atone your fears,With my more noble meaning, not a manʃhall paʃs his quarter, or offend the ʃtreamOf regular juʃtice, in your city’s bounds ;But ʃhall be remedied by publick laws,At heavieʃt anʃwer.Both‘Tis moʃt nobly ʃpoken.
AlcibiadesDeʃcend, and keep your words.Enter a ʃoldier‸ʃoldierMy noble general, Timon is dead ; Entomb’d upon the very hem o’th’ ʃea ; And on the grave-ʃtone this inʃculpture, whichWith wax I brought away ;[Alcibiades reads the epitaph.] Here lies a wretched coarʃe, of wretched ʃoul bereft:ʃeek not my name: a plague conʃume you caitiffs left!Here lye I Timon, who all living men did hate,Paʃs by, and curʃe thy fill, but ʃtay not here thy gaite.Theʃe well expreʃs in thee thy latter ʃpirits :Tho’ thou abhorr’dʃt in us our human griefs,ʃcorn’dʃt our brains’ flow, and thoʃe our droplets,whichFrom niggard nature fall ; yet rich conceitTaught thee to make vaʃt Neptune weep, for aye,On thy low grave -- On : faults forgiven. -- DeadIs noble Timon, of whoʃe memoryHereafter more---Bring me into your city,And I will uʃe the olive with my ʃword ; Make war breed peace ; make peace ʃtint war ; makeeachPreʃcribe to other.Let our drums ʃtrike.-------[Excuent. Drums beat a march. Curtain Falls.The laʃt act of this play has neither much to praiʃe, nor muchto condemn; of the concluʃion, we may ʃpeak in ʃhakespeare’sown words, that it is moʃt lame and impotent. ^- The gates open -Senators 2c come forth, and kneeling deliver the keys of the town to Alcibiades Flourish of TrumpetsAlcibiadesyet all's not doneVengeance must work. Where is that loathsome crew,Whose black ingratitude commands the heart of Athen' noblest son1st SenatorThey wait your doom.Guard them hither.Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius and others of Timon's former friends brought in boundAlcibiadesNow love dissembling villainsYe look'd more cheerly, when I found you guestsAt Timon's feast- While on his wealth ye throve,And his full coffers like his heart, stand openTo your fine use.SemproniusThese are your doings, ye vindictive gods.I see you wise against ingratitude,And push us from the earth; I have deserv'd it.LuciusWhat law can judge the heart? - What is my fault?AlcibiadesWhat Fault! -- Oh heartless slaves ye did denyLord Timon certain vile and sorry drachmasIn his distreʃ; now Timon's star prevails,And justice wrings your treasures from your gripe.LuciusWhat all my wealth, my pictures, statues, coinPlate, jewels, gems ----LucullusYet spare, Oh mighty chief,All your need craves rot. I've a mine of goldA magazine to sack or save a city.AlcibiadesAnd it shall buy your banishment, insteadOf public shameful death. -To that Lord TimonWhose will must seal your sentence, yield consentTo so much mercy.LucullusMercy from him! - Would I were Timon's dogRather than what I am. Egregious dotard!LuciusI have no heart to speak - all swept awayMy hangings, couches, vestments wrought with gold--LuciusOh what a luckless piece of work is man!AlcibiadesBring them alongTo the lone wood, where wretched Timon haunts, The exile of mankind.
Enter Soldier 2c as before17See back p. 148

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Timon of Athens, A Tragedy by ShakespeareWilliam ShakespeareThomas MiddletonMr. HopkinsPrinted for John Bell in 1773TEI edition encoded byCourtney HerberDanny NguyenBenjamin ReedJohn Bell, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. Etherington, at YorkLondonMDCCLXXIII

Physical volume held at University of Nebraska-Lincoln's Special Collections and Archives

Timon of ATHENS,A TRAGEDY, by SHAKESPEARE,AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATER-ROYAL, Drury Lane,Regulated from the PROMPT-BOOK,With PERMISSION of the MANGERS,By Mr. HOPKINS, Prompter.Printers OrnamentPrinted for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York.
MDCCLXXIII [1773].

INTRODUCTION.

This piece can never be intereʃting on the ʃtage; notwith-
ʃtanding many paʃʃages which reliʃh highly of its great
author; one excellent piece of inʃtruction it undoubtedly
affords, the miʃerable effects of prodigal benevolence,
ʃcattered among ʃervile intereʃted followers; the pic-
ture of Timon himʃelf is highly finiʃhed; and Ape-
mantus is a well conceived, well drawn contraʃt; but
moʃt of the other characters are inʃipid or trifling, many
of the ʃcenes flimzy, and the cataʃrophe not ʃo ʃtriking,
as it might be; we give the piece to peruʃal, greatly and
properly reduced from the original.

We have ʃeen three alterations of this play; the laʃt,
Mr. Cumberland’s, is much the beʃt, but we think
Shakeʃpeare, properly pared, better than any of them;
though, if the merit of this dramatic genius had reʃted
upon Timon for fame, it muʃt have fallen very ʃhort
of what it is; yet as the moral, ʃhowing how miʃap-
plied bounty may become a deʃtructive vice, muʃt be
conʃidered as a very uʃeful leʃʃon, we could with this
piece to be oftner in public view; but lighter matters
than inʃtruϵtion, ʃeem to be too much the prevalent taʃte.

It is ʃo long ʃince this play has been acted in its origi-nal ʃtate, that it was thought needleʃs to colleϵt per-formers names.

TimonKeanLuciusKnightHarleyLucullusHarleyT. PenleyApemantusMurdenSemproniusBengoughT. PenleyBarandAlcibiadesWallackFlaviusHollandFlaminiusBarandServiliusKentCoveneyCaphisY. SmithVarroCoveneyYhanthPhilo1st SenatorPowell2d SenatorYathePoetHughesPainterMintonJewellerJ. SmithMerchantEkanthMarshallOld AthenianCawMessenger from VentidiusMiller1st ThiefCooke2d ThiefSoldierServant to LucullusTimandraMiʃ CookePhryniaMiʃ Ivers ^- Enter Jeweller and Merchant and other Suitors loping over. ^^ - Exuent Jeweller and Merchant.
ACT I
SCENE, a ball in Timon’s houʃeEnter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer at ʃeveral doors.*
PoetGOOD day Sir.Painter I am glad y’ are well.PoetI have not ʃeen you long; how goes theworld?PainterIt wears, Sir, as it goes.PoetAy, that’s well known.But what particular rarity? what ʃo ʃtrange,Which manifold r cord not matches? ʃee,(Magick of bounty!) all theʃe ʃpirits thy power^Hath conjur’d to attend. I know the merchant.PainterI know them both; th’ other’s a jeweller.MerchantO ‘tis a worthy lord!JewellerI have a jewel here.MerchantO, pray, let’s ʃee’t:For the lord Timon, Sir?JewellerIf he will touch the eʃtimate: but for that--^^H3 Poet* The opening ʃcene of this play is a good preparative for the
ʃubject coming before us; and is expreʃed much in charaϵter.82TIMON OF ATHENS.PoetWhen we for recompence have prais’d thevile.It ʃtains the gory in that happy verʃeWhich aptly ʃings the good.Mercer‘Tis a good form.[Looking on the jewel.JewellerAnd rich; here is a water, look ye.PainterYou’re rapt, Sir, in ʃome work; ʃome de-dicationTo the great lord ?PoetA thing ʃlipt idly from me.Our poeʃie is as a gum, which iʃʃuesFrom whence ‘tis nouriʃhed. The fire i th’ flintShews not, ‘till it be ʃtruck :What have you there ?PainterA picture, Sir:--when comes your bookforth ?PoetUpon the heels of my preʃentment, Sir.Let’s ʃee your piece,Painter‘Tis a good piece.PoetSo ‘tis.Poet (Handwritten)This comes off well and excellent.PainterIndiff’rent.PoetAdmirable! How this graceSpeaks his own ʃtanding ? what a mental powerThis eye ʃhoots forth ? how big imaginationMoves in this lip ? to the dumbneʃs of the geʃtureOne might interpret.PainterIt is a pretty mocking of the life:Here is a touch----is’t good ?Poet I’ll ʃay of itIt tutors nature ; artificial ʃtrifeLives in thoʃe touches, livelier than life.*Enter certain ʃenators.PainterHow this lord is followed !PoetThe ʃenators of Athens ! happy man !PainterLook, more!Poet.* Making men of genius flatter one another in company, isnatural enough, however they may vent cenʃure when apart--it is too often the caʃe.136TIMON OF ATHENS.TimonHere’s gold. Go, ʃuck the ʃubtle blood o’th’ grape,’Till the high fever ʃeethe your blood to froth,And ʃo ‘ʃcape hanging. Truʃt not the phyʃician,His antidotes are poiʃon, and he ʃlaysMore than you rob. Take wealth, and live together.Do villainy , do, ʃince you profeʃs to do’t,Like workmen ; I’ll example you with thievery.The ʃun’s a thief, and with his great attraϵtionRobs the vaʃt ʃea. The moon’s an arrant thiefAnd her pale fire ʃhe ʃnatches from the ʃun.The ʃea’s a thief, whoʃe liquid ʃurge reʃolvesThe mounds into ʃalt tears. ^Love not yourʃelves, away ;Rob one another, there’s more gold ; cut throatsAll that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,Break open ʃhops, for nothing can you ʃteal,But thieves do loʃ it: ʃteal not leʃs for whatI give, and gold confound you howʃoever! Amen.[Exit.The fourth act rather riʃes upon us, but Timon has ʃo muchto ʃay, that the actor, who does him juʃtice, muʃ have verypermanent powers.End of the Fourth ACT
ACT V
SCENE, the woods, and Timon's cave.Enter FlaviusFLAVIUSOH, you gods!Is yon deʃpis’d and ruinous man, my lord?Full of decay and failing ? oh, monumentAnd wonder of good deeds, evilly beʃtow’d!What change of honour deʃp’rate want has made?What^ each thing's a thief. No laws, your curb and whip, in their rough cavesHave uncheck'd theft.Timon seated in the entrance of his cave.TIMON OF ATHENS.137What viler thing upon the earth, than friendsWho can bring nobleʃt minds to baʃeʃt ends? ‡H’as caught me in his eye, I will preʃentMy honeʃt grief to him ; and, as my lord,Still ʃerve him with my life. My deareʃt maʃter!Timon comes forward from his cave. § TimonAway! What art thou?FlaviusHave you forgot me, Sir?TimonWhy doʃt thou aʃk that ? I have forgot allmen.Then, if thou granteʃt that thou art a man,I have forgot thee.FlaviusAn honeʃt ʃervant----TimonThen I know thee not:I ne’er had honeʃt men about me, allI kept were knaves, to ʃerve in meat to villains.FlaviusThe gods are witneʃs,Ne’er did poor ʃteward wear a truer grief,For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you.TimonFor his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. I love thee,Becauʃe thou art a woman, and diʃclaim’ʃtFlinty mankind; whoʃe eyes do never give,But or through luʃt, or laughter. Pity’s ʃleeping;Strange times, that cry with laughing, not withweeping!FlaviusI beg of you to know me, good my lord,T’ accept my grief, and, whilʃt this poor wealth laʃts,To entertain me as your ʃteward ʃtill.TimonHad I a ʃtewardSo true, ʃo juʃt, and now ʃo comfortable ?Vol. VNIt‡The following lines ʃshould be ʃpoken.How rarely does it meet with this time’s guiʃe,When man was wiʃht to love his enemies !Grant I may ever love, and rather wooThoʃe that would miʃchief me, than thoʃ that do!§ The author has begun his fifth act, with an affeϵting inter-view between Timon and his faithful ʃteward; but we wiʃh theformer did not overflow with ʃuch an exceʃs of miʃanthropic re-ʃentment, of which he has, with great ʃameneʃs and prolixity,been before too liberal.138TIMON OF ATHENS.It almoʃt turns my dangerous nature wild----Let me behold thy face: ʃurely, this manWas born of woman.Forgive my gen’ral and exceptleʃs raʃhneʃs,Perpetual, ʃober gods ! I do proclaimOne honeʃt man : miʃtake me not--but one:No more, I pray; and he’s a ʃteward.How fain would I have hated all mankind,And thou redeem’ʃt thyʃelf: but all, ʃave thee,*I fell with curʃes.Methinks, thou art more honeʃt now, than wife;For, by oppreʃʃing and betraying me,Thou might’ʃt have ʃooner got another’s ʃervice:For many ʃo arrive at ʃecond maʃters,Upon their firʃt lord’s neck. But tell me true,Is not thy kindneʃs, ʃubtle, covetous,An uʃuring kindeʃs, as rich men deal gifts,Expeϵting in return twenty for one ?FlaviusNo, my moʃt worthy maʃter, (in whoʃe breaʃtDoubt and ʃuʃpeϵt, † alas, are plac’d too late,)You ʃhould have fear’d falʃe times, when you didfeaʃt;That which I ʃhew, heav’n knows, is merely love,Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,Care of your food, and living, and, believe it,For any benefit that points to me,Either in hope, or preʃent, I’d exchangeFor this one wiʃh, that you had power and wealthTo requite me by making rich yourʃelf.TimonLook thee, ‘tis ʃo; thou ʃingly honeʃt man,Here, take; the gods out of my miʃery,Have ʃent thee treaʃure. Go, live rich and happy :But thus condition’d; thou ʃhalt build for men :Hate all, curʃe all , ʃhew charity to none ;But let the famiʃh’d fleʃh ʃlide from the bone,Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs,What* This his interval of tender feeling for his faithful ʃteward,ʃoftens the frenzied rigidity of Timon, agreeably.†Suʃpect, for ʃuʃpicion.Exit Timon.139TIMON OF ATHENS.What thou deny’ʃt to men. Let priʃons ʃwallow ‘em,Debts wither ‘em ; be men like blaʃted woods,And may diʃeaʃes lick up their falʃe bloods !And ʃo farewel, and thrive.FlaviusO, let me ʃtay, and comfort you, my maʃter.TimonIf thou hat’ʃt curʃes,Stay not, but fly, whilʃt thou art bleʃt and free;Ne’er ʃee thou man, and let me ne’er ʃee thee.[Exeunt, ʃeverally.Enter Poet and Painter.PainterAs I took note of the place, it can’t be far,where he abides.PoetWhat’s to be thought of him ? does the ru-mour hold for true, that he’s ʃo full of gold ?PainterCertain. Alcibiades reports it : Phyrnia andTimandra had gold of him : he likewiʃe enrich’dpoor ʃtragling ʃoldiers with great quantity.ʃaid, he gave his ʃteward a mighty ʃum.PoetThen this breaking of his, has been but a trialof his friends ?PainterNothing elʃe ; you ʃhall ʃee him a palm inAthens, again, and flouriʃh with the higheʃt.PoetWhat have you now to preʃent unto him ?PainterNothing at this time, but my viʃitation : onlyI will promiʃe him an excellent piece.PoetI muʃt ʃerve him ʃ, too; tell him of an in-tent that’s coming towards him.Painter ‡ Good as the beʃt : promiʃing is the veryair o’th’ time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Per-formance is ever the duller for his act, and, but inthe plainer and ʃimpler kind of people, the deed isquite out of uʃe. §N2Re-‡Promiʃes and performance are here diʃtinguiʃhed in a ʃenʃi-
ble ʃatirical manner.§It is a great pity to omit the following paʃʃage.To promiʃe, is moʃt courtly, and faʃhionable; performance is akind of will or teʃtament, which argues a great ʃickneʃs in his judg-ment that makes it.140TIMON OF ATHENS.Re-enter Timon from his cave, unʃeen.TimonExcellent workman ! though canʃt not paint aman, ʃo bad as thyʃelf.PoetI am thinking, what I ʃhall ʃay I have pro-vided for him: it muʃt be a perʃonating of himself:a ʃatyr againʃt the ʃoftneʃs of proʃperity, with a diʃ-covery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth andopulency.TimonMuʃt thou needs ʃtand for a villain, in thineown work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults, in othermen? do ʃo, I have gold for thee.PoetNay, let's ʃeek him.TimonI'll meet you at the turn----------What a god's gold, that he is the worʃhippedIn baʃer temples than where ʃwine do feed !'Tis thou that rigg'ʃt the bark, and plow'ʃt the wave,ʃettleʃt admired rev'rence in a ʃlave;To thee the worʃhip, and thy ʃaints, for aye,Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey!'Tis fit I meet them.PoetHail! worthy Timon.PainterOur late noble maʃter.TimonHave I once liv'd to ʃee two honeʃt men?Poetʃir, having often of your bounty taʃted,Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,*He, and myʃelf,Have travell'd in the great ʃhower of your gifts,and ʃweetly felt it.TimonAy, you're honeʃt men.* Theʃe lines almoʃt certainly deʃerve preʃervation.Whoʃe thankleʃs natures, ( oh abhorred ʃpirits ! )Not all the whips of heav’n are large enough--------------What! to you!Whoʃe ʃtar-like nobleneʃs gave life and influence,To their whole being ! I am rapt, and cannotCover the monʃtrous bulk of this ingratitudeWith any ʃize of words.TimonLet it go naked, men may ʃee't the better:You that are honeʃt, by being what you are,Make them beʃt ʃeen and known.TIMON OF ATHENS.141PainterWe’re hither come to offer you our ʃervice.TimonMoʃt honeʃt men ! why, how ʃhall i requiteyou?Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.BothWhat we can do, we'll do, to do you ʃervice.TimonY’re honeʃt men ; you’ve heard that I havegold ;I'm ʃure you have; ʃpeak truth, y're honest men.Painterʃo it is ʃaid, my noble lord, but thereforeCame not my friend, nor I.TimonGood honeʃt man; thou draw'ʃt a counterfeit,Beʃt in all Athens ; thou'rt, indeed, the beʃt ; Thou counterfeit'ʃt, moʃt lively.Painterʃo, ʃo, my lord.TimonE'en ʃo, ʃir, as I ʃay--And for thy fiction,Why, thy verʃe ʃwells with ʃtuff ʃo fine and ʃmooth,That thou art even natural in thine art.But for all this, my honeʃt-natur'd friends,I muʃt needs ʃay, you have a little fault;Marry, not monʃtrous in you ; neither wiʃh I,You take much pains to mend.BothBeʃeech your honourTo make it known to us.TimonYou'll take it ill.BothMoʃt thankfully, my lord.TimonWill, you indeed ?BothDoubt it not, worthy lord.TimonThere's ne'er a one of you but truʃts a knave,That mightily deceives youBothAy, and you hear him cogg †, ʃee himdiʃʃemble,Know his groʃs patchery, love him, and feed him ;Keep in your boʃom, yet, remain aʃʃur'd,That he's a made-up villain.PainterI know non ʃuch, my lord.PoetNor I.
†Cogg, for flatterN 3Tim.142TIMON OF ATHENS. TimonLook you, I love you well, I'll give you gold,Rid me theʃe villains, from your companies ;Hang them, or ʃtab them, drown them in a draughtConfound them by ʃome courʃe, and come to me,I'll give you gold enough.BothName them, my lord, let's know them.TimonYou that way, and you this ;--------but twoIn company : Each man apart, all ʃingle and alone,Yet an arch villain keeps his company.If where thou art, two villains ʃhall not be,[To the painter.Come not near him-----If thou wouldnʃt not reʃide[To the poet.But where one villain is, then him abandon.Hence, pack, there's gold ; ye came for hold, yeʃlavesYou are an alchymiʃt, make godl of that :OUt, raʃcal dogs ! [Beating, and driving 'em out.Enter Flavius and two ʃenatorsFlaviusIt is in vain that you would ʃpeak with Timon: For he is ʃet ʃo only to himʃelf,That nothing but himʃelf, which looks like man,Is friendly with him.1. Sen Bring us to his cave,It is our part and promiʃe to th' Athenians,To ʃpeak with Timon.2. SenAt all times alike.Men are not ʃtill the ʃame ; 'twas time and griefsThat fram'd him thus. Time, with his fairer hand,Offering the fortunes of his former days,The former man may make him ; bring us to him,And chance it as it may.FlaviusHere is his cave :Peace and content be here, lord Timon! Timon!Look out, an ʃpeak to friends, th' Athenians
By Enter two other ʃenators, with a Meʃʃenger.1. SenTHOU haʃt painfully diʃcover'd ; are his fileAs full as thy report ?2. SenMeʃ. I have ʃpoke the leaʃt.Beʃides, his expedition promiʃesPreʃent approach.1. SenWe ʃtand much hazard, if they we bring notTimon.2. SenMeʃ. I met a courierCaptain oncem ine ancient friend ;Who, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love made a particular force,And made us ʃpeak like friends. This mn was ridingFrom Alcibiades to Timon's Cave,With letters of intreaty, which importedHis fellowship i'th' Cauʃe againʃt your CityIn part for his ʃake mov'd.TIMON OF ATHENS.143By two of their moʃt rev'rend ʃenate, greet thee ;ʃpeak to them, noble Timon.Enter Timon out of his cave.TimonThou fun, that comfort'ʃt, burn!------ʃpeak and be hang'd ;For each true word a bliʃter, and each falʃeBe cauterizing to the root o'th' tongue,Conʃuming it with ʃpeaking1. SenWorthy Timon2. SenThe ʃenators of Athens greet thee, Timon.TimonI thank them. And would ʃend them backThe plague,Could I but catch it for them.1. SenatorOh! forgetWhat we are ʃorry for ourʃelves, in thee:The ʃenators, with one conʃent of love,Intreat thee back to Athens ; who have thoughtOn ʃpecial dignities, which vacant lie,For thy beʃt uʃe and wearing.2. SenatorThey confeʃsTow'rd thee forgetfulneʃs, too general, groʃs ;Which now the public body, (which doth ʃeldomPlay the recanter) feeling in itʃelfA lack of Timon's aid, hath ʃenʃe withalOf its own fall, reʃtraining aid to Timon;And ʃends forth us to make their ʃorrowed tender,Together with a recompence more fruitful,Than their offence can weigh down by the dram ;Ay, ev'n ʃuch heaps and ʃums of love and wealth,As ʃhall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs ;And write in thee the figures of their love,Even to read them thine. ‡‡The return of fawning profeʃʃions to return of wealth, aswell as their departure from poverty, is too well known to everybody, who knows any thing of life; but the picture here drawn,of ʃuch infamous time-ʃerving, may have ʃingular good effectsupon unpractiʃed youth, if properly inculcated and attended to;Timon, in this ʃcene, retorts upon his ungrateful countrymen,with a proper degree of firm manly reʃentment.Tim.144TIMON OF ATHENS.TimonYou witch me in it,ʃurprize me to the very brink of tears ;Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes,and I'll beweep theʃe comforts, worthy ʃenators.1. SenatorTherefore ʃo pleaʃe thee to return with us,And of our Athens, thine and ours, to takeTHe captainʃhip : thou ʃhalt be met with thanks,Allow'd with abʃolute power, and thy good nameLive with authority : ʃoon we ʃhall drive backOf Alcibiades th' approaches wild,Who, like a boar too ʃavage, doth root upHis country's peace.2. SenatorAnd ʃhakes his threatning ʃwordAgainʃt the walls of Athens.2. Senator 1. ʃenatorTherefore, Timon-----TimonWell, ʃir, I will; therefore I will, ʃir;thus --------- If Alcibiades kill my countymen,Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,That Timon cares not. If he ʃack fair Athens, ANd take our goodly aged men by' beards,Giving our holy virgins to the ʃtainOf contumelious, beaʃtly, mad-brain'd war;Then let him know, --and tell him, Timon ʃpeaks it;In pity of our aged, and our youthI cannot chuʃe but tell him, that I care not.And let him tak't at worʃt ; for their knives care not,while you have throats to ansʃwer. For myself,There’s not a whittle in th’ unruly camp,But I do prize it at my love, beforeThe reverend’ʃt throat in Athens. ʃo I leave youTo the proteC*tion of the proʃp’rous gods,As thieves to keepers. Flaviusʃtay not, all's in vain.TimonWhy, I was writing of my epitaph,It will be ʃeen, to-morrow. My long ʃickneʃsOf health and living now begins to mend,And nothing brings me all things. Go, live ʃtill ;Be Alcibiades your plague; you his ; And laʃt ʃo, long enough! 1. ʃen.TIMON OF ATHENS.1451. SenatorWe ʃpeak in vain.TimonBut yet I love my country, and am notOne that rejoices in the common wreck,As common † bruite doth put it.1. SenatorThat's well ʃpokeTimonCommend me to my loving countrymen.1. SenatorTheʃe words become your lips, as they paʃsthro' them.2. SenatorANd enter in our ears, like great triumphers,In their applauding gates.TimonCommend me to them,And tell them, that to eaʃe them of their griefs,Their fears of hoʃtile ʃtrokes, their aches, loʃʃes, ^andTheir pangs of love, with other incident throes.That nature’s fragile § veʃʃel doth ʃuʃtain,In life’s uncertain voyage, I will doʃome kindneʃs to them, teach them to preventWild Alcibiades’s wrath.2. SenatorI like this well, he will return again.TimonI have a tree, which grows here in my cloʃeThat mine own uʃe invites me to cut down, And ʃhortly muʃt I fell it. Tell my friends,Tell Athen , in the ʃequence [asterisk symbol] of degree,From high to low throughout, that whoʃo pleaʃeTo ʃtop affliction, let him take his haʃte ; Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,And hang himʃelf-----I pray you, do my greeting.FlaviusVex him no further, thus you ʃtill ʃhall find him.TimonCome not to me again, but ʃay to Athens,Timon hath made his everlaʃting manʃion,Upon the beached verge of the ʃalt flood ;Which, once a-day, with his emboʃʃed froth,The turbulent ʃurge ʃhall cover: thither come,And let my grave-ʃtone be your oracle.Lips, let ʃour words go by, and language end :What is amiʃs, plague and infection mend! † Bruite, report.
‡ Fragile, for brittle--this ʃpeech we deem very beautiful ; the aʃʃimilation it contains, is moʃt happily fancied.
∗ ʃequence, for gradation. Graves146TIMON OF ATHENS.Graves only be men’s works, and death their gain !ʃun, hide thy beams ! Timon hath done his reign. [Exit Timon. †1. SenatorHis diʃcontents are unremoveably coupledTo his nature.2. SenatorOur hope in him is dead; let us returnAnd ʃtrain what other means is left unto us,In our dear [double cross symbol] peril. 1. SenatorIt require ʃwift foot. [Exuent.
ʃ C E N E, before the walls of athens. §Trumpets ʃound. Enter Alcibiades with his powers.Alcibiadesʃound to this coward and laʃcivious town,[ʃound a parley. The ʃenators appear upon the walls.’Till now you have gone on, and fill’d the timeWith all licentious meaʃure, making your willsThe ʃcope of juʃtice. ’Till now myʃelf, and ʃuchAs ʃlept within the ʃhadow of your power,Have wander’d with our traverʃt arms, and breath’dOur ʃufferance vainly. Now the time is fluʃh,When crouching marrow in the bearer ʃtrongCries, of itʃelf, no more: now breathleʃs wrongʃhall ʃit and pant in your great chairs of eaʃe,And purʃy inʃolence ʃhall break his wind,With fear and horrid flight. 1. SenatorWhen the firʃt griefs were but a mere conceit,Ere thou hadʃt power, or we had cauʃe to fear ;We ʃent to thee, to give thy rages balm,To wipe out our ingratitude, with lovesAbove their quantity.
†
text of annotation> † This languid departure of the principal character, muʃtleave an audience unʃatisfied, and all that follows is ʃo detachedfrom the main plot, except Timon’s epitaph, that cutting everyline out would rather ʃerve, than maim, the piece; it is merelypatching up a concluʃion with ingredients totally void of critical reliʃh. ‡ Dear, for dread. § There is a ʃhort ʃcene of the original, before this, properly rejected.ʃenator(x2. Would not a battering ram brought in have a good effect?) 1. Sen.TIMON OF ATHENS.1472. Senatorʃo did we wooTransformed Timon to our city’s love,By humble meʃʃage, and by promis’d ‘mends: We were not all unkind, nor all deʃerveThe common ʃtroke of war. 1. SenatorTheʃe walls of oursWere not ereC*ted by their hands, from whomYou have receiv’d your griefs : nor are they ʃuch,That theʃe great tow’rs, trophies, and ʃchools ʃhouldfall,For private faults in them.1.2. Senatorʃen. March on, oh noble lord,Into our city with thy banners ʃpread ;By decimation and a tithed death,If thy revenges hunger for that foodWhich nature loaths, take thou the deʃtin’d tenth :And by the hazard of the ʃpotted die,Let die the ʃpotted.1. SenatorThen, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage;ʃpare thy Athenian cradle, and theʃe kin,Which in the bluʃter of thy wrath muʃt fall,With thoʃe that have offended ; like a ʃhepherd,Approach the fold, and cull th’ infeC*ted forth ;But kill not altogether,2. SenatorWhat thou wilt,Thou rather ʃhalt enforce it with thy ʃmile,Than hew to’t with thy ʃword.1.2. Senatorʃet but thy footAgainʃt our rampir’d gates, and they ʃhall ope :ʃo thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,To ʃay thou’lt enter friendly.2.1. SenatorThrow thy glove,Or any token of thine honour elʃe,That thou wilt uʃe the wars as thy redreʃs,And not as our confuʃion: all thy powers ʃhall make their harbour in our town, till weHave seal’d thy full deʃire.AlcibiadesThen there's my glove ;Deʃcend, and open your uncharged ports ;Thoʃe148TIMON OF ATHENS.Thoʃe enemies of Timon’s, and mine own,Whom you yourʃelves ʃhall ʃet out for reproof,Fall, and no more; and to atone your fears,With my more noble meaning, not a manʃhall paʃs his quarter, or offend the ʃtreamOf regular juʃtice, in your city’s bounds ;But ʃhall be remedied by publick laws,At heavieʃt anʃwer.Both‘Tis moʃt nobly ʃpoken.
AlcibiadesDeʃcend, and keep your words.Enter a ʃoldier‸ʃoldierMy noble general, Timon is dead ; Entomb’d upon the very hem o’th’ ʃea ; And on the grave-ʃtone this inʃculpture, whichWith wax I brought away ;[Alcibiades reads the epitaph.] Here lies a wretched coarʃe, of wretched ʃoul bereft:ʃeek not my name: a plague conʃume you caitiffs left!Here lye I Timon, who all living men did hate,Paʃs by, and curʃe thy fill, but ʃtay not here thy gaite.Theʃe well expreʃs in thee thy latter ʃpirits :Tho’ thou abhorr’dʃt in us our human griefs,ʃcorn’dʃt our brains’ flow, and thoʃe our droplets,whichFrom niggard nature fall ; yet rich conceitTaught thee to make vaʃt Neptune weep, for aye,On thy low grave -- On : faults forgiven. -- DeadIs noble Timon, of whoʃe memoryHereafter more---Bring me into your city,And I will uʃe the olive with my ʃword ; Make war breed peace ; make peace ʃtint war ; makeeachPreʃcribe to other.Let our drums ʃtrike.-------[Excuent. Drums beat a march. Curtain Falls.The laʃt act of this play has neither much to praiʃe, nor muchto condemn; of the concluʃion, we may ʃpeak in ʃhakespeare’sown words, that it is moʃt lame and impotent. ^- The gates open -Senators 2c come forth, and kneeling deliver the keys of the town to Alcibiades Flourish of TrumpetsAlcibiadesyet all's not doneVengeance must work. Where is that loathsome crew,Whose black ingratitude commands the heart of Athen' noblest son1st SenatorThey wait your doom.Guard them hither.Lucius, Lucullus, Sempronius and others of Timon's former friends brought in boundAlcibiadesNow love dissembling villainsYe look'd more cheerly, when I found you guestsAt Timon's feast- While on his wealth ye throve,And his full coffers like his heart, stand openTo your fine use.SemproniusThese are your doings, ye vindictive gods.I see you wise against ingratitude,And push us from the earth; I have deserv'd it.LuciusWhat law can judge the heart? - What is my fault?AlcibiadesWhat Fault! -- Oh heartless slaves ye did denyLord Timon certain vile and sorry drachmasIn his distreʃ; now Timon's star prevails,And justice wrings your treasures from your gripe.LuciusWhat all my wealth, my pictures, statues, coinPlate, jewels, gems ----LucullusYet spare, Oh mighty chief,All your need craves rot. I've a mine of goldA magazine to sack or save a city.AlcibiadesAnd it shall buy your banishment, insteadOf public shameful death. -To that Lord TimonWhose will must seal your sentence, yield consentTo so much mercy.LucullusMercy from him! - Would I were Timon's dogRather than what I am. Egregious dotard!LuciusI have no heart to speak - all swept awayMy hangings, couches, vestments wrought with gold--LuciusOh what a luckless piece of work is man!AlcibiadesBring them alongTo the lone wood, where wretched Timon haunts, The exile of mankind.
Enter Soldier 2c as beforeSee back p. 148